


Some Moments In Time (Are Meant To Be Held)

by IndigoNight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Fluff, Gen, Pack Family, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoNight/pseuds/IndigoNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is accosted in the grocery store, and it is entirely Stiles' fault. It would have helped if someone had remembered to invite him to the party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Moments In Time (Are Meant To Be Held)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dira Sudis (dsudis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/gifts).



> Happy Holidays to Dira Sudis! I did my best to give Derek the nice things you requested. Hopefully what it lacks in length it makes up for in sweetness.
> 
> The title is borrowed from the song Alone But Not Lonely by Mary Chapin Carpenter. The fic was largely inspired by [ this post ](http://helenish.tumblr.com/post/67442186524/sheriff-stilinski-i-will-pay-you-one-thousand) on tumblr.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Derek Hale! Get over here, boy!”

Derek’s whole body froze. He wasn’t reacting to the tone of the sheriff’s voice, though he was clearly angry - even a human could tell that. He froze because as soon as the sheriff had come within reach he’d grabbed the back of Derek’s neck and begun manhandling him toward the door.

His whole body went partially limp, the two boxes of cereal he’d been examining dropping with a rattle to the floor as the sheriff propelled him down the supermarket aisle. Though it would have been surprising to just about anyone who knew him, he didn’t struggle; he didn’t resist in anyway. Every nerve in his body was focused down to the point of contact between the sheriff’s hand and his neck. It was large and warm and squeezing around the nerve center at the top of his spine. He hadn’t been held like that in a long, long time.

He knew the sheriff didn’t know what he was doing, but instantly Derek’s mind flashback to his childhood. When he’d roughhoused too much with Laura, or refused to take a bath, and his mother, like any werewolf mother, would gently grab the scruff of his neck. She always kissed his head too, before letting him go, and he’d obey her, no matter what. This wasn’t like that, he _knew_ it wasn’t like that, but his body reacted the same.

The sheriff was still talking to him, but he wasn’t listening. He did follow as the sheriff towed him out of the store, though his feet kept getting tangled up in each other; he’d been a lot shorter the last time this had happened.

“Stiles has been working himself into a frenzy for days, you know,” the sheriff grumbled at him. Derek heard the words, but it was hard to focus on him. The hormones flooding his body made it hard to think, endorphins and oxytocin making his whole body feel loose and slightly tingly. The sheriff hadn’t noticed, too busy with his tirade.

Derek had no idea what he’d done to so upset the man, and he was certain he’d be concerned about it as soon as he could focus again. It had taken years, and a lot of work, but he’d thought that he and the supernaturally informed residence of Beacon Hills had finally found a sort of peace; there had been no attacks in months, and the pack was functioning and healthier than ever.

People stared at them as the sheriff dragged a full grown man out of the store by the scruff of his neck, but no one dared say anything - especially since Derek wasn’t exactly resisting. The sheriff finally released him when they reached the parking lot, and it was all Derek could do to keep his suddenly jellied legs from going out from under him. The sheriff stared at him expectantly, and Derek blinked back at him blankly.

The sheriff threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” he asked.

Derek shrugged. It took effort to keep his face under control. His heart was racing, for once not with fear or adrenalin, but from the visceral sense memory, the release of hormones. A warm, solid feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach and he knew it was just biology, that his body was programmed to do that, just as it had been programmed into his wild brethren the wolves. The sheriff had no idea what effect his actions had had, Derek knew that too. He vaguely remembered learning that it was different for humans, that they didn’t have that same instinctual reaction the way werewolves did. Yet, it wasn’t just biology, not really. It had been so long since someone had touched him like that, firm but not violent, angry but _caring_ \- like a parent.

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. He’d noticed the dazed look in Derek’s eyes, the old way he was holding his body - not stiff exactly but like he had to focus to stay on his feet. “Derek?” he asked, purposefully gentling his voice. It was reflex; he knew Derek had been through a lot in his life, and the sheriff was well trained. He hated to think that he might have accidentally triggered something unpleasant for Derek, but he was prepared to deal with it if he had.

Derek blinked, the careful tone in the sheriff’s voice bringing him back to the present and informing him that he wasn’t doing as good a job of keeping his face blank as he’d hoped. “What happened?” he asked, partially hoping to divert the sheriff’s concern, but the sheriff’s earlier burst of anger was filtering back to him and he was becoming concerned himself.

The sheriff raised an eyebrow and Derek’s mind flashed through a series of horrible things he could have somehow missed. But he neither saw nor smelled any blood, the sheriff didn’t look distraught or frightened, and he hadn’t been bombarded by frantic texts and phone calls from Stiles, or anyone else. Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard from Stiles at all in a few days, which was odd. Even though things had gotten peaceful, Stiles still usually found something to bother him about on a fairly regular basis - not that Derek minded, _really_ , but he wasn’t going to let Stiles know that.

“Stiles is sulking,” the sheriff informed him. If it had been anyone else, Derek would have laughed in his face.

“Stiles sulks all the time. Whatever I did, I didn’t do it on purpose and he’ll get over it.” Derek really didn’t understand the sheriff’s involvement in this. Stiles’ sulking fits usually lasted less than an hour before he diverted his energy to more productively scheming up ways to get revenge for whatever perceived slight had offended him. 

Instead, the sheriff snorted. “Clearly, you’ve never seen Stiles in a Great Sulk.” He emphasized the words, the capitalization audible in his words somehow. 

Derek raised his eyebrows incredulously and shook his head. “Well, whatever upset him, it wasn’t me. I haven’t talked to him in days.”

“Since Tuesday?” the sheriff guessed, accurately. Derek only blinked in surprise, but he didn’t need to answer, his startled silence was admission enough. “Since you told him you weren’t coming over on Saturday?”

Derek shrugged, still not understand the accusatory tone in the sheriff’s voice. “I told him I wanted some time alone this weekend, yeah.” He hadn’t expected Stiles to get upset. That Saturday was the twenty-first of December. It wouldn’t mean anything to the humans, who were too busy building their excitement for Christmas four days later, but the twenty-first was the Winter Solstice. Few humans paid any attention to it anymore, but to werewolves, who still marked their years by the phases of the moons and the passing of the seasons, it was considered among the high holidays. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with his pack, it was just that on that day, when the memories of massive feasts and all night runs through the snow and stories told around a bonfire would be so raw, the faces of his dead family haunting him, he didn’t think he’d be up for the usual Saturday night pizza and video games at the Stilinski house. More than anything, he hadn’t wanted to ruin everyone else’s good time with his gloomy mood. 

The sheriff was watching him, eyes narrowed. It was the expression that Stiles called his detective face, the one that said he was about to bust you and there was nothing you could do about it. Even though Derek was certain he’d done nothing wrong, this time, he still squirmed uncomfortably. “There’s the problem,” the sheriff announced, nodding decisively, “he didn’t tell you.”

Derek had come to that same conclusion as well, though evidently the sheriff knew what he hadn’t been told. “Well maybe someone should,” he prompted.

The sheriff shook his head, though he seemed to be mostly talking to himself. “Stiles didn’t say anything about it being a surprise,” he muttered, his lips twisted in a soft chuckle. “Which means the kid must have gotten himself so worked up he forgot to actually tell you the plan.”

“What plan?” Derek asked, his voice bordering on a growl. He was frustrated; he didn’t like being out of the loop, and as the .burst of pleasant hormones faded embarrassment was creeping in to take their place. To make things worse, the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach hadn’t faded, and while he was glad he and the pack had at least found a friendly sort of truce, he knew better than to get truly attached. At least, that’s what he told himself.

The sheriff groaned, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head again. “Of course he didn’t tell you,” he muttered. “He went through all that planning and didn’t even realize he’d forgotten to invite the guest of honor.” 

Derek gave up. “When you’re ready to fill me in, I’ll be inside buying cereal.” He turned back to the store, but the sheriff’s hand on his arm stopped.

“I’m sorry, Derek.” The sheriff waved a hand to stop him, obviously working to suppress his laughter. “It’s just we, especially Stiles, have been planning this for weeks and I can’t believe no one actually remembered to invite you.”

Derek stopped walking and turned back to the sheriff, his arms crossed over his chest and he plastered a look of exaggerated patience on his face. “You sound so surprised,” he grumbled, because frankly given the way his life generally went _he_ wasn’t surprised, though he didn’t actually intend for the sheriff to hear his sarcastic statement.

After a moment the sheriff mastered himself and shook his head one more time. “The, uh, the Solstice, on Saturday,” he explained, “Stiles said it’s kind of a big deal in your… family,” the sheriff fumbled a bit, but Derek let it pass. “He planned a whole, you know, feast. He got the whole pack in on it. I can’t believe you didn’t know; it never works this well when we try to _plan_ a surprise.”

Derek just stood there, blinking in shock. He could have put it together several minutes ago, except that he couldn’t remember for sure if he’d ever told any of them about the Solstice. He had, he hadn’t thought anything about it at the time, but a few months before Stiles had asked him if werewolves celebrated Christmas. Derek couldn’t remember how the question had come up, but Stiles’ look of wide eyed horror at the thought of his potential ignorance was hard to forget. Derek had explained that most werewolves did celebrate at least one of the winter holidays like humans did, but that they put much greater emphasis on the Winter Solstice, since it was a day to connect to their wild ancestors. He hadn’t expected Stiles, or anyone else, to remember, let alone do something about it.

The sheriff fidgeted awkwardly. “So, uh, you’ll come?” he asked. “Five o’clock, Saturday. You don’t have to do anything, just show up. There’ll be food, and a bonfire in the backyard, and Stiles said something about you and the other werewolves maybe going for a run in the preserve? It would… mean a lot to Stiles.”

It took a moment, but Derek collected himself and nodded, though it was a little stiff; he was still in shock. “I’ll come,” he promised. 

***

Saturday came and Derek stood fidgeting on the Stilinski doorstep. Everyone else had already arrived; he could hear them inside, talking and laughing. Various food scents emanated from the house, making his mouth water even though he could have sworn he wasn’t hungry a few minutes ago.

As he stood listening, he could hear Scott and Isaac bickering about some game, Stiles emphatically insisting that the table had been set wrong - “For the love of god, what are you, heathens? You can’t put the knife on the left!” - while Erica and Allison were complimenting Mrs. McCall on her new haircut. Boyd and Lydia and Jackson were there too, everyone’s voices and heartbeats blending together to form one complete sound that meant family.

“You going in?”

Derek jumped at the sound of the sheriff’s voice behind him. He’d been so busy listening, so busy getting wrapped up in the scene before him that he hadn’t heard the sheriff approached.

The older man stood relaxed and smiling behind him, his coat speckled with sawdust and woodchips from the logs he’d just finished carrying to the backyard, where they would have a bonfire later.

Derek hesitated, fumbling for a way to explain why he’d been standing so long on the porch without announcing his arrival. But it seemed he didn’t need to, because the sheriff just shook his head and closed the distance between them. He dropped a hand onto the back of Derek’s neck, not gripping this time but gentle propelling as he lead them to the door and nudged Derek inside.

“Happy Solstice everyone!” the sheriff announced as they entered, his voice purposefully cheerful to the point of being obnoxious.

Derek had no choice but to follow, not that he truly wanted to resist. The sheriff’s hand felt heavy on his neck and a warm, solid feeling settled in the pit of his stomach; this time, it definitely wasn’t just biology.


End file.
